


Perseverance

by RogueLioness



Series: Thedosian Tales [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Damn Egg, F/M, Heartbreak, That Scene In Crestwood, Trespasser, solavellan hell, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 01:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11430144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: She is cracked, wounded, but she will not break.





	Perseverance

He leaves Lavellan alone on her knees, her heart a churning mess, such a contrast to the peace of the glen. She weeps, and weeps, and touches her face, mourning the loss of her vallaslin even more now, now that she has connection neither with clan, nor with lover. And somewhere in the midst of her grief, there’s an anger that bubbles up - she  _knows_  he loves her, she  _knows_  he cares, so  _why_  did he leave her, does he have someone she doesn’t know about? How could he do this to her, after all the time they’ve spent together? So she pulls herself together, and walks out of the cave, eschewing the safety of the Inquisition camp for an old, abandoned hut because she doesn’t want anyone to see her red-rimmed eyes.

She doesn’t know he watches over her that night.

She returns to Skyhold, alone, and when she walks past the rotunda she finds the door open; automatically, her eyes are drawn inside, and her gaze meets his. He immediately drops his head, his hands fumbling through the many papers on his desk, and it’s such an obvious dismissal, it is a fresh stab to her heart. And it’s incredibly painful and heart breaking, and she spends nights sobbing into the pillows because  _damn him_ , she’s not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her broken, of knowing how much he has torn her apart. So she walks with her spine straight, her head raised high, and there’s command in her voice and strength in her eyes, and no one - save those who know her intimately - knows that she’s actually numb and cold inside.

Oh, but Solas knows. He  _knows_ , and it eats at him, claws at his throat till he wants to eat the words that caused her the pain, and it grieves him further because he knows he can’t do it, he’s sworn to a duty, and he thinks this is the only way to protect her.

And then the final hour comes, and his heart is in his throat each time she attacks the darkspawn magister, and he all but forgets about his companions, focusing on keeping her safe, dropping barrier after barrier; she must not be exposed to the power his orb contains, she must not be hit by Corypheus’ corrupted power. Only when Blackwall yells at him for assistance does he reluctantly leave her side, and even then, it doesn’t stop him from anxiously looking over his shoulder when he can. The orb’s power was not meant for a mortal. He knows this, and he  _will not_  let himself think of the fact that  _she is mortal_ , and that  _she bears his mark_ , or that  _it would some day consume her_ , because  _he will_ **not**  allow that to happen.

The unthinkable happens.

His orb breaks.

And his plans all scatter, like ashes in the wind.

For all the heartache he’s caused her, Lavellan can see how anguished he is over the loss of the orb, and though she doesn’t understand  _why_ , she cannot bear to see him so desolate, and comforts him with her words, distressed that she cannot do so physically.

“What we had was real,” he tells her.

But he leaves her anyway, abandons her mercilessly a second time. Once more she’s thrown into the ocean of misery and heartbreak, and this time the currents are stronger, the waves stronger, and they threaten to overwhelm her, to pull her under until she drowns.

She wakes up one morning, her head pounding, the taste in her mouth sour from the copious amounts of alcohol she’s imbibed; her hair is tangled and knotted, her eyes are red, and she cannot remember the events of the previous night.

When she sees her reflection in the mirror, the remnants of her pride pull her together. She is Lavellan, First of her Clan, Herald to the  _shems_ , savior of Thedas, and she has been through  _too much_ for her to fall apart for a man, for a man who could abandon her so callously, not once but twice.

So she perseveres, pressing ahead, dealing with life like she always has, ignoring the hole in her heart that cries out for him. She is ruthless in her efforts to get over him; his murals in the rotunda she has covered with curtains; his room is cleaned out and redecorated, the remains of his personal items either donated or thrown away.

She keeps his books, and his notes.

She keeps the amulet that hung around his neck.

She keeps his clothes, pulling them out late at night, long after Skyhold is asleep, clutching the lambswool to her chest and inhaling the scent of him to comfort and ground her.

She is not glass, easily broken; she is diamond, strengthened by pressure, polished by pain.

And when she meets him again, after two long years, she does not run to him. She does not fall to her knees and sob. She stands as she always has, straight and proud, ignoring the pain in her arm and the pain in her heart as he - once again - brings her heartbreak.

But then he kisses her; and damn him,  _damn him_ , because that breaks her defenses, lays her bare open before him once more, and when he turns to leave her - her heart and hand wholly in his clutches - yet again, she rises to her feet, stiffens her spine, throws her head back. Her voice is loud, clear and commanding.

_Var lath vir suledin, vhenan_.


End file.
